


finger paints for the elder god

by presidentbees



Series: Arcane Distillery [6]
Category: Arcane Distillery, Original Work
Genre: Babysitting, Demon Children, Demon possession, Eldritch, Original Fiction, PTSD, Possession, Short One Shot, nightmare mindscape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidentbees/pseuds/presidentbees
Summary: "Oh, you mean horse?" CK pointed his shaking finger at the brown dot.Cicatrix beamed, putting its green and blue fingers inside of its mouth and bubbling with laughter. It nodded vigorously, its long black hair bouncing around its face. "Yes! We want hoys."





	finger paints for the elder god

Using his thumb and forefinger, CK painted another row of orange and baby pink clouds across the canvas. Each dab created another spot of light, another bit of texture, something to add to the scene he was creating. He could almost imagine himself there, feeling a cool breeze whisper over his cheeks as he watched the setting sun bathe the hillside in beautiful, burning colors. 

There was a rough tap on his forearm, and CK looked down to see the Cicatrix grabbing him. Green pain was streaked over its face and around its mouth, but its teeth were still a bright, pearly white as it beamed up at him.

“Hey, did you finish your paints?” CK looked to where he had left it, seeing that the white floor of his mindscape had been turned into an abstract painting with green and blue hand prints smeared across the floor. Red paint had been dumped out, and colorful footprints marked the figure eight pattern that it had taken around the room. 

"Hoys!" the Cicatrix said, waving its bandaged arms at him. The sheet of paper in its fist flopped and wobbled. "Have hoys!"

"Hoys?" CK parroted back, not understanding.

It gurgled as it shoved the paper into CK's lap. The wet paint smeared over his jeans, but he picked it up and saw—

CK looked at the crude picture. To somebody else, it would have been a normal child’s finger painting. It had a green field, with a bright blue sky above it. Large globs of white had been dotted across the sky, and standing in the grass was a brown circle with four sticks coming out of it.

This was the — the place that CK dreamed about. The snow had melted away, revealing the lush green grass that would eventually be torn up and tilled so that wheat would be planted there. The horses were let into the fields, and they grazed freely during the day. This was the most peaceful time of the year — when the only thing to do was lie in the grass and watch the white, puffy clouds drift by overhead. 

"Oh, you mean horse?" CK pointed his shaking finger at the brown dot.

Cicatrix beamed, putting its green and blue fingers inside of its mouth and bubbling with laughter. It nodded vigorously, its long black hair bouncing around its face. "Yes! We want hoys."

Feigning enthusiasm, CK smiled and nodded along with the Cicatrix.

It was impossible to tell how old it was — it was large enough to be between 4 or 6 years old, but it talked and acted like it was a toddler. Its face was still round and chubby, and a bandage had been applied underneath its left eye.

The same eye as CK’s. One mark that none of the other Cicatrixes had. 

As if reading his mind, the Cicatrix locked its eyes with CK's, staring at him intensely. Its iris were like looking into two twin pools of deep, dark water. The kind of water that was almost black, and burned with a cold, uncaring energy. They were eyes that had witnessed immeasurable acts of cruelty, and had accepted them as facts of life. They didn't hold anything inside of them other than apathy.

The Cicatrix gurgled, breaking the spell as it crinkled its eyes up into a happy smile and it headbutted CK’s arm.

 _‘It’s just a child,'_ CK realized. _‘It’s still just a child. It doesn’t understand what it can do— what it could do here.’_

CK let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. The finger painting had been crushed slightly, and he smoothed it out on his lap. The wet paint had smeared together, blurring the lines between the grass and the sky, but the horse still stood on its rickety stick legs. 

Manifesting a new canvas in front of him, CK affixed the Cicatrix’s painting to the top of the frame and called on a new set of paints to work with. The Cicatrix still clung to his arm, looking at the blank canvas intently, and CK couldn’t shake the fear that it was going to judge him on this. 

CK swallowed dryly, willing his voice to keep from shaking. "Okay, I can make you a horse. What do you want her name to be?”

**Author's Note:**

> i arrive drinking from a large Sonic cup and wearing shades. i say i got caught up in traffic and stopped for a limeade. it smells obnoxiously of vodka. ive really just been super busy and havent time to indulge ~~and also bc most of my recent stuff has been more on the nsfw side of ideas and i dont put that stuff on this ao3~~
> 
> CK is my son and I would die for him. You can read more about him in ["300 Seconds"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249735) and [, or you can check out his ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693540>)[toyhou.se](https://toyhou.se/1674553.ck) page.


End file.
